


Leave, Leaving, Left

by CompletelyDifferent



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Abuse, Catra Making Really Horrible Decisions, Child Soldiers, F/F, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2019-10-15 00:10:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17518478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CompletelyDifferent/pseuds/CompletelyDifferent
Summary: The first people to leave Catra were her parents.It only went downhill from there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So... time for some extended Catra character study, because this poor kitten has a lot to unpack.
> 
> As a forewarning, this story will most likely get dark- but never grim dark without hope. Nonetheless, I will provide content warnings as we go along for any sensitive content. Look after yourself, folks :)

The first people Catra lost were her parents.

Well, so she figures. She had to have come from somewhere, right? Shadow Weaver didn’t just manifest her, fully-formed, into the Fright Zone. So out there, somewhere, is the couple who created her. Maybe she’d had siblings, too; whenever Catra imagined what they looked like, she saw blurry, fuzzy kittens who somehow had the faces of all the kids in her squad.

Whenever she pictured her parents, she saw even less. She couldn’t imagine what they looked like, and why should she bother, anyway? One way or another, they’d given her up. Let her go.

 

* * *

 

So, her birth family had been the first. The second was Delray.

She’d been another member on the squad, built like a brick house, with an equally hard attitude to match. She’d took no shit. Delray and Catra might not have been best friends or anything, but Catra hadn’t been able to help respecting her. She’d been the only kid who ever came close to matching Adora. Not the fastest, but she’d been methodical, unflappable, intense…

And then, one day on the aerial obstacle course, Delray had fallen. Broke a leg and three ribs.

She’d been taken out of commission, of course, but with time she would have been find. Everyone had said so. But then a particularly nasty flu had struck the Fright Zone. It had hit the medical wards the hardest. At her peak, Delray could have- _would have_ \- fought it off no problem. But she was injured and tired and her immune system just hadn’t been up to the job.

The team was given a whole two minutes of silence to grieve. Delray was lumped in with every other loyal Horde citizen who was killed by the disease.

When the two minutes were up, a staticy voice over the intercom called all citizens to take up arms, to avenge their brethren's deaths by destroying the cruel princesses who had sent the wicked plague.

Everyone had raised their fists and yelled defiance. Even as she had wondered how, exactly, the princesses had sent a _flu_ , Catra had yelled with them.

* * *

 

More kids flunked out after Delray, though none as dramatically (or fatally). Bullnia went blind in her left eye after getting hit by a laser, and was removed from military service. Jeffrey managed to fail a physical so bad that he got permanently stationed on janitorial duty. Abed managed the opposite. He did so _well_ on some scientific aptitude test that he was moved to the brainiacs’ program, to learn how to design better guns and ships and stuff.

Catra had missed him a lot when he’d left. Abed had one of the only people she could get a halfway intelligent conversation out of.

Not that Catra could admit any of that. Not without practically _begging_ Shadow Weaver to paint an even bigger target on her back.

So Catra shut her mouth, and tried not to make friends, who could so easily been taken away.

Except Adora. Adora was solid as steel, unmovable, a dedicated soldier.

If Catra was sure of anything, it was that Adora wasn’t going anywhere. She had promised.


	2. Chapter 2

And then Adora left.

 

She just. _Left_.

 

It took less than a day without the Horde- without Catra- for Adora turn her back on her. To go all glowly and superior and protective of a bunch of total strangers!

 

Well, where had that protectiveness been when it came to Catra, huh? When Shadow Weaver was choking her throat or plaguing her with waking nightmares? There’d been no shielding, no righteous speeches. It had been all, ‘well, you _are_ kind of disrespectful’ or ‘you could try a little harder’ or ‘Shadow Weaver isn’t _all_ bad.’

 

Well, fuck that. Fuck the rebellion, fuck Adora, and above all else, fuck She-Ra.

 

* * *

 

Shadow Weaver didn’t see it that way. She still wanted Adora. Adora, Adora, _Adora_.

 

It was ridiculous. Frustrating. Infuriating.

 

But not so infuriating as seeing just how… weak Shadow Weaver truly was? Was this really the woman who had terrified Catra for so long? Who had admonished her, hurt her, haunted her nightmares?

 

It was pathetic. Catra realised she couldn’t let it go on any longer.

 

So she put an end to it.

 

After it was all over, and Shadow Weaver was gone, Catra felt… strange. Triumphant, certainly. Satisfied. Proud.

 

But also… Something else.

 

The Fright Zone was quiet, without Shadow Weaver. Empty, almost. Catra kept expecting to hear the snap of her voice, or the familiar flickering out of the corner of her eyes.

 

But whenever she looked, instead of shadows, there was just nothing.

* * *

 

Catra had never needed Shadow Weaver, and it turned out, she had never needed Adora either.

 

Quite the opposite, in fact. Catra did a hundred times better than she ever had in the Golden Girl’s shadow. Dispatching Shadow Weaver was only one step. She became Force Captain. Then she secured her position to Hordak’s second-in-command. She found a way to begin unravelling First One’s tech. She came closer to toppling Bright Moon than anyone in history.

 

And she built up an elite team which could propel her even farther. A team who, above all else, she could trust, if only because Entrapta and Scorpia were too stupid to ever betray her.

 

At least, that’s what Catra had assumed. And then Entrapta left, anyway.

 

* * *

 

It was during the attack on that stupid plant kingdom. It shouldn’t have been a difficult assault. Once you got past the woodland defenses, their people had basically no military of which to speak. So once they’d managed to construct twenty-five tree guzzling tanks, they cut through Plumeria’s protective forest like it was nothing more than wet mulch.

 

Then She-Ra was there, blazing like the sun, standing in their way.  

 

Catra stared at the princess for a moment… then launched herself at She-Ra with savage glee.

 

“Like my new toys?” Catra cried as she sliced her claws into Adora’s face.

 

Adora didn’t say anything, didn’t even cry out. She hadn’t done for months. Not since Bright Moon.

 

“Still giving me the _cold shoulde_ r?” Catra hissed. She’d gotten a grip on Adora’s bicep; flipping her over her back, Catra slammed the princess of power onto the ground. “Not very mature of you, do you think?”

 

Still not a word. Adora just got back onto her, brandishing her sword. Catra ducked, and heard a whistle as the blade grazed the tips of her ears. Then she retaliated by ducking between Adora’s legs, kicking her feet out from beneath her.

 

The next thing Catra knew, the two of them were on the ground together, the dust a thick choking cloud, as each tried to gain advantage over the other.

 

In a fair fight, Adora would win, of course. Her ethereal strength outstripped that of any mere mortal. But Catra didn’t fight fair.

 

“It’s your fault all this is happening, you know.” Catra took some satisfaction out of Adora’s grunt of pain. “The Horde _never_ could have gotten here by ourselves. But you made a mistake!

 

“That’s right!” Catra taunted gleefully, kicking Adora in the abdomen. “On that little rescue mission of yours. I’m telling you, your little teleportation princess is worth _nothing_ compared to Entrapta.”

 

“En- Entrapta?”

 

Finally, a word out of Adora’s mouth.

 

“ _That’s right_.” Catra had dodged a fist to her face. “She’s a genius. An absolute genius. She’s the one who designed these tanks, and that was basically child’s play for her. Have you seen the things she can build, the technology she can access? And the rebellion was practically _ignoring_ her.” She cackles. “Fools.

 

“But more than that,” continued Catra, as she had slashed at Adora’s stomach, “she is so gullible. Even more gullible than _you_.”

 

Adora’s bright blue eyes shone with hurt fury and tears, and Catra drank it in.

 

“A few kind words… a hand on her cheek… a stroke of her hair… That’s all I had to do, and she was mine.” At some point in the fight, she’d been stabbed, but despite the pain and the blood, Catra grinned. “Can you believe she actually thinks that I like her? That I _love_ her?”

 

The gloating had been stupid. Catra should have looked to see who else was around, first.

 

But she hadn’t. So it was only after she’d spoken that she heard Entrapta’s little betrayed gasp.

 

Breaking free of Adora’s grip, Catra spun. Stared at Entrapta. Stared past her. Through the settling dust, a towering shape could just be made. A tall monument made of out living plants and flowers, a statue of Entrapta herself.

 

Entrapta raised a recorder to her mouth: “Plumeria Log, hour three. Evidence suggests that the rebellion never abandoned me at all. I believe I have made a terrible mistake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the lovely comments last time! Really means a lot :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to plug [this text post](https://glimmehr.tumblr.com/post/180123730142/whatever-you-do-dont-imagine-entrapta-following) by glimmerhr which gave me a lot of inspiration for the last chapter, and this fic in general. Check it out! :)

So Entrapta had left.

 

The tree destroyers had stopped working. So had the tanks. The guns. The gliders.

 

Over sixty percent of Catra’s troops were captured, and she returned to the Fright Zone with her tail between her legs.

 

* * *

 

Next to leave was Scorpia.

 

That was worse, somehow. Because yeah, Scorpia, was a massive pain. She was clingy and too loud and dumber than some rocks. But she was also… sweet and earnest, and Catra hadn’t really thought her capable of betrayal.

 

Catra wondered how the Rebellion had convinced her. There was no way to know for sure. Scopria’s defection was a great big unknown. She’d disappeared on a mission. Been officially declared missing, presumed captured or dead.

 

The war was ramping up. The coming battles were critical. It was agreed that they didn’t have the resources to spare for a single soldier, even if she was a Force Captain and Princess alike.

 

Ultimately, Catra was glad they didn’t bother. All it had probably taken was a hug and a cup of hot chocolate to get that foolish, naive women on in the princesses’ pockets.

 

All she knew was a couple of weeks later, Catra received an official dispatch from an official Crimson Kingdom C=courtier. It was written in Scorpia’s too-large large, too-near neat print, surrounded by cute little doodles of of Scorpia with Entrapta and all their new friends holding hands,  tiny hearts floating around their heads.

 

_Dear Catra,_

 

_Come join us. We could have fun. I miss you. So does Adora. She’s actually really nice._

 

 _Love,_ _  
_ _Scopia_

 

Catra shredded the letter then and there, and left it for the cleaning robots to handle.

* * *

 

 

By the time her old squad defected, Catra wasn’t surprised. Everyone left, sooner or later.

 

What did surprise her was that _Kyle_ went first.

 

He’d tried to slip out, unnoticed, during the night. Considering Kyle was a poor runner, fighter, and liar, that obviously hadn’t gone as planned. He’d been backed up against a fence, surrounded by armed guards on all sides, and there should have been no way he’d escape.

 

The Rogelio had swooped in on a glider, grabbed his outreached arm, and carried him to safety.

 

That hadn’t been the plan, Catra had later discovered, from a nervous guard sharing the security recordings. Kyle and Rogelio  kid had had a fight. A bad one. Kyle had wanted to leave, had pleaded with his boyfriend to come with him. Rogelio had said that was foolish. That he was a traitor. That he was going to get killed.

 

But in the end, Rogelio  had come to Kyle’s rescue. They’d sailed off into the sunrise. Together.

 

So what? So _what_? It wasn’t like Kyle had actually **added** anything to the team! And if Rogelio  was such a weak-willed emotional sap, than clearly he’d been nothing but a ticking time bomb. The Horde was better off without them. _Catra_ was better off.

 

There were crackdowns, after, of course. Fiercer discipline. Stricter security. Anyone even suspected of even _considering_ defection were tossed into solitary confinement… or worse.

 

That’s where Catra had put all her old squad mates, of course. There was no other option. Being closest to the other defectors, they were an obvious hole in security. This was the only way she could ensure it was plugged. To keep Hordak off her back. To make sure they stayed.

 

But Kyle and Rogelio had come _back_. Blown a hole right in prison, and gotten off with not just their own old squad, but a half dozen criminals and dissidents.

 

Catra had stood in the wreckage, through the hole blasted through the wall, to the rising sun. It had been very bright. She had looked away, and gotten on with her day.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This is the one where things start to get a bit heavier, folks. For the full warning, please check the ending chapter notes.

Catra had always wanted to raise through the ranks of the Horde.

 

She remembers long nights, curled up by Adora’s feet, staring into the darkness, imagining, dreaming of what it would be like. How everything would be better, once she and Adora were in control. Better for everyone. No more forced military recruitment of orphans. No more long drills that left cadets’ feet raw and bleeding. No more wasteful attacks on civilian outposts. No more gross food in the cafeteria.

 

No more fear.

 

Turns out to be way harder than that, in reality. One way or another, the War is entering its final stretch. The only option is to keep attacking, or be overrun by their opponents.

 

The Horde needed every soldier they could get. Cadets had to be as highly trained as possible. Using the Horde’s superior numbers and technology to attack outlying villages and spread the Princesses thin was their best strategy. They were desperate enough for food that they could only feed the cafeterias with with whatever rations were available.

 

There was a way out of it. Catra was sure of it. She could see it, dimly. End the war, and this could all change. It could all change for the better. Just like she’d dreamed.

 

But that seemed so, so far away. And Catra was tired.

 

There had to be a quicker way to end it.

 

There had to be.

 

* * *

 

 

Catra came up with the plan by herself. Didn’t tell anyone about them; didn’t bring anyone along. There was no one she could trust with them.

 

Besides. If things went wrong, she had to be alone for this.

 

As long as the Rebellion would fight, the War would continue. And the Rebellion would fight as long as it had leaders.

 

Take out the leaders. End the War.

 

Simple.

 

* * *

 

 

Catra’s initial assault on the Whispering Woods had hit it badly, freezing most of the trees solid and killing a solid twenty percent of them. In the time since, the Woods had managed to recover a fair amount; it was no longer possible to lead a large-scale force directly through it.

But neither was it the instant death that used to await Horde Soldiers. Claws unsheathed the whole way, Catra made it through to Bright Moon castle unscathed.

 

The Castle was guarded by regular perimeter patrols, by soldiers bearing the colors a good dozen kingdoms. As far as outfits go, it was not great for stealth. Even if Catra hadn’t already had intel on the guards’ patterns, it wouldn’t have taken long for her to figure them out.

 

Still, perhaps she should have taken more time to watch. To observe. To plan.

 

But Catra hadn’t. She was impatient. She was tired. She just wanted to get this over with.

 

She slipped out of the woods, sticking to shadows. Swam through the moat, barely noticing the cold that seeped into her bones. Dug her long claws into the stone, and scaled the cliff.

 

It was just like sneaking around the Fright Zone, when she was just a kit. Find an open window. Balance on a banister. Hide in an alcove. Sneak past the guards. A game, a game, it was all just a game.

 

She was tempted to go after Princess Glimmer first.  Sorely tempted. Take her from the Rebellion, from She-Ra, from Adora. See how she likes it.

 

But no. No. There are bigger fish to fry.

 

* * *

 

 

Queen Angela's quarters had no open windows. Just a single, huge door, guarded by two alert sentientals.

 

No sneaking past these guards.

 

Catra hid in the shadows, unblinking, tail twitching.

 

She could still leave. Go back. No one would even know she was here.

 

She unsheathed her claws. No. She came all this way.

 

No backing down. Not now.

 

With a hiss, Catra threw herself right out of the shadows, and right at a guard’s throat.

* * *

 

 

Those last moments were a blur.

 

There was flesh under her hand. The smell of blood. The sting of metal. Screams. Yells. Pounding footsteps. Catra yowled and clawed and dodged. One of her opponent falls. She wasn’t sure if they were dead. Didn’t stop to check. Already backup could be heard.

 

“You won’t get through,” growled the remaining guard, slashing with his sword.

 

 _No duh,_ Catra did not say.

 

More soldiers arrived. Soldiers, and princesses. All around her. Penning her in. No escape. Not now.

 

Something hit her in the back of her head. Hard.

 

For a moment, Catra felt relief.

 

Then she was gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning for implied attempted suicide.


	5. Chapter 5

Catra woke up.

 

She lay there, stunned. She hadn’t expected to wake up. Hadn’t planned on it.

 

She _was_ dead, right? She had to be. She’d never bought any of those ‘life after death’ stories- all seemed too good to be true- but then, the universe had always loved proving her wrong.

 

Everything was floaty and foggy and dark. She couldn’t feel anything. Not warmth, not cold, not hunger, not pain. Not even joy or sadness or anger.

 

Seemed like death to her.

 

Catra let herself drift.

 

* * *

 

Turned out, _no_ , she wasn’t dead. Catra figured that out when whatever painkilling drugs they’d put her on started wearing off.

 

Her head hurt. Her bones hurt. _Everything_ hurt.

 

The cell around her was small. She was chained to a bed.

 

They’d captured her.

 

They’d captured her.

 

Catra started to scream.

 

* * *

 

Guards actually responded to the screaming, but Catra ignored them. She didn’t care about them, or what they had to say. Eventually they gave up trying to talk to her.

 

They sent a healer. Catra swiped at them, refusing to be examined, to have her bandages changed, to even take more painkillers.

 

They brought food, slipping it in through a slot in the door. Catra ignored that too.

 

… as much as possible, at least. While Catra’s mind balked at allowing herself to be captured, to be caged, to play along, to do as they wanted, her body couldn’t care less about her pride. It cared about survival, and the same instincts that had helped Catra claw herself to the top of the Horde’s hierarchy eventually forced her to eat.

 

But only the bare minimum. Not a scrap more. And then Catra returned to her cot, and stared at the cell’s wall.

 

* * *

 

Eventually someone came to interrogate her.

 

It was some guard or other, flanked in turn by three more guards. Even with her captured and restrained and locked away Horde-knew-where, the rebels were still scared of her. That, at least, made Catra smile.

 

She didn’t answer any of their questions. And there were _so_ many questions. About locations and strategies and equipment and resources, asked again and again and again.

 

Catra tuned them out. What little attention she had left was entirely focused on the interrogator, and her guards, and the pain they would no doubt start to inflict when they didn’t get their answers.

 

The questions got more rapid, the interrogator’s voice louder, the frustration and anger clearer and clearer and clearer. Catra braced.

 

But the pain didn’t come.

 

Eventually- after what must’ve been hours- the interrogator left, defeated for now. Catra relaxed, but only a fraction. They were biding their time, but sooner or later, they’d bring out the big guns.

 

* * *

 

The answer turned out to be ‘later’.

 

How much later, Catra couldn’t say. She had no real way of telling how much time had passed since her capture, and honestly, she wasn’t putting that much effort into keeping track. There’d been at maybe five of those repetitive interrogation sessions, at least. Maybe more. Again, she wasn’t paying attention. If they weren’t even going to bother throwing her around a bit, why should she?

 

So Catra laid on her cot, the almost entirely uneaten morning’s meal left ignored on the floor, Catra instead poking idly at the still ugly and unhealed bruises and cuts that covered her entire body. She heard the cell door swing open; the clank of armor; the familiar order to get up.

 

Catra didn’t bother.

 

Then a voice commanding voice said; “Oh, come now. You did go through all this trouble to see me, after all.”

 

Finally, Catra sat up, to find Queen Angella, leader of the rebellion, staring down at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how's about that season 2 trailer, huh?
> 
> Big thanks to everyone who left kudos or comments! They're so encouraging, especially when my life is as hectic as it is!


	6. Chapter 6

In the videos and posters and speeches that Catra had grown up surrounded by, the Queen of Monstrous Princesses had always been depicted as the most menacing of figures imaginable. Someone with glowing red eyes who ate lizard people for supper and tore the tails off of scorpion folk for laughs.

 

She wasn’t actually like that, of course, but Catra found herself somewhat surprised by just how much of the Horde’s propaganda proved to be correct. The queen’s colors were right, as were the wings and the stature. So was the cold expression that demanded respect in all who saw it.

 

All except Catra. With deliberate slowness, she stretched out and yawned. “Oh, _hello_ , your majesty.” Catra drew that last word out long and slow. “‘Fraid I’m fully booked today. Perhaps you could make an appointment for some other time?”

 

Queen Angella ignored her, instead sitting down at the single chair in the cell- the one Catra couldn’t sit down in, even if she wanted to, what with all the chains. It was those same chains that’d make an attack on the woman doomed to failure, which the rebellion’s leader knew very well.

 

The two women stared at each other.

 

Catra was the first to look away, breaking off into another yawn. That one wasn’t actually fake. She truly was tired, down to her very bones. But she couldn’t allow the other woman to see that. “Listen, queeny, I can save use from both from wasting our time. I’m not going to tell you anything I know, so you can go back to floating on clouds, or whatever it is you do when you’re not fighting a losing war.”

 

“Ah. Any particular reason you think we are losing?”

 

Catra rolled her eyes.

 

Queen Angella sighed. “You must realise that stubborness will do you no favors.”

 

“Oh?” Catra leaned forward, finally hearing something worth her interest. “Why’s that?”

 

“You are behind enemy lines, in what may be the most secure cell on the planet. It has been over six days, you have barely eaten, and refused all treatment, despite your quite significant injuries.”

 

Catra shrugged- biting down a wince at the bolt of pain the simple movement sent throughout her entire body. “Eh. I’ll live.”

 

“There is a very good chance that you may not. That is my entire point.”

 

Catra felt her claws unsheath and retract. She glared. Did the queen really think she was telling Catra anything she hadn’t been told already? That she hadn’t realised herself?

 

“Can we just cut past the crap?” she spat. “I’m not going to roll over and do what you want. So what are you planning to do with me?”

 

“Do with you?”

 

“Yeah. What fancy torture or magics are you gonna bust out to make me talk?”

 

That actually caused Queen Angella’s perfect mask to break, something akin to disgust or affront showing through. “My people do not torture.”

 

“Mmmhmm. Right.”

 

“We do not,” Queen Angella repeated. “Besides being grossly cruel and unethical, torture does nothing to gain accurate intel. It merely pressures your prisoner to say whatever they think necessary to stop the pain.”

 

Catra snorted. “Yeah, sure. _I_ know that. But you can’t tell me you don’t have anybody in your army of yours who wouldn’t like to give the Horde’s second-in-command a good beating.”

 

Queen Angella said nothing to that, which was an answer in of itself.

 

Leaning back against the wall, Catra casually rested her hands behind her head. Or, as casually as she could. The chains made moving them an effort, and the bruising through her arms screamed in protest. “Anyway, that was only half of my question,” said Catra. “You could just _magic_ me to say or do whatever you want.”

 

“Surely you’re aware that the Moonstone grants me no magical abilities of such nature.”

 

Honestly, Catra wasn’t sure. Yeah, she knew that Queen Angella and her precious sparkle princess mostly just seemed able to glitter and teleport, but appearances could be deceiving. While it was unlikely that they had any other, stronger powers up their sleeves, Catra couldn’t be sure they didn’t have a hidden trump card.

 

And what Catra did know for certain was that various mind-bending magics existed. Even if Queen Superiority couldn’t wield them herself, she almost certainly had allies who _could_.

 

Clearly sensing Catra’s skepticism, Queen Angella sighed. “There are ways, yes. But it’s un-”

 

“Unethical, blah blah blah.” Cata made talking motions with her hand.

 

“- Unethical, and inevitably fails, long term. When that happens, you generally have a greater enemy than when you started.” The rebel queen regarded Catra with her piercing blue eyes. “I do not want you as our enemy.”

 

Another yawn. “Too late.”

 

“No. It is not.” Queen Angella leaned forward. “You have committed great crimes against many people. But you are still young. You can still be pardoned. You can still work to make good your mistakes. You can-”

 

“But I don’t _want_ to.” Catra stood up, as tall as her chains would allow. Her claws were unsheathed, her tail lashed.  “Don’t you get _that_ ? I don’t want to join you sparkly sweet alliance, I don’t want your pardon, and I don’t **need** your pity!” Catra took in a long, desperate breath, her chest heaving- from anger, from exhaustion. “So just _give up_ already!”

 

There was a long stretch of silence.

 

Finally, Queen Angella stood up. “If that’s truly how you feel, then I suppose I will have to.”

 

She left, the guards following after her like trained dogs. The sound of the cell door clanging such echoed.

 

Catra stared at it, far longer than was necessary. Then she fell back onto the cot, and did not sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I finish this before the new eps officially make this non-canon? LET'S FIND OUT.


	7. Chapter 7

And for a while after it well and truly seemed that the rebellion had given up on Catra.

 

Queen Angella didn’t visit her again. Other interrogators did, but their sessions seemed fewer and shorter. Food came, three times a day, piling up as Catra ate less and less. Healers came, and Catra didn’t have the energy to fight them off anymore. She doubted that their treatments made much of a difference, at this point.

 

Catra really wished Bright Moon knew how to do a good old fashioned execution. She was tired of waiting for the inevitable.

 

* * *

 

But something else happened first.

 

Adora came.

 

There was a time where Adora’s presence would have been an inevitability. Any horde cadet ended up in the medical bay at some point or another, and when they were kids, Catra had spent more than her fair share of time there. Technically, the bay wasn’t supposed to have visitors in anything but the most dire of circumstances, but Adora had never been able to stay away. She’d sneak out at night, or finish training early, or barter for shift changes… If Catra broke her ribs or twisted her ankle or even just caught a nasty case of the flu, Adora would do anything to be at her side.

 

And now Adora was there, outside the cell. Catra didn’t know how long she’d been there. Eventually she’d just noticed an extra brightness out of the corner of her eyes, and managed to summon the energy to turn and look.

 

Because it wasn’t exactly Adora there, was it? It was She-Ra, the princess, ten feet tall, with flowing hair like sunlight and muscles like a goddess.

 

“Well,” Catra managed, after far longer than she’d like, “look what the cat dragged in.”

 

She-Ra’s eyes were as blue and cold as ice.

 

“Still giving me the silent treatment, huh?” Catra struggled into a sitting position. “Real mature, Adora.”

 

Yep. Still nothing.

 

Time passed. It wasn’t clear how long. Catra tried not to sway where she sat. She-Ra stood, stoic and still as a statue.

 

“This your new gig then?” Catra said. “Prison duty? So much for being the beloved face of t-”

 

The rest of Catra’s jab was drowned out by a fit of coughing. Coughing, coughing, coughing, like her own lungs were trying to force their way up her throat, and it left Catra panting and sweating.

 

She buried her her face in her hands. She refused to look at She-Ra. She wondered what would be worse to see; that same stoicism or pity.

 

“What _happened_?”

 

She-Ra’s voice was neither cold nor pitying. It was incredulous, of all things.

 

“I got captured, dumbass,” said Catra. “You were there, remember?”

 

“No. I mean. _Why_ did you get captured?” And it sounded just like Adora, back when they were kids, and Catra had missed up some ‘simple’ drill and Adora was trying to figure out how she could’ve made such a _basic_ mistake.

 

“Cuz I lost.”

 

“You don’t just _lose_ , Catra.” Adora sounded almost angry. “You never pick a battle you think you can’t win. So why would you try to assassinate the queen like that? You must have realised there was no way that plan would succeed.”

 

Catra didn’t answer. She just shrugged.

 

She-Ra growled wordlessly. “And why aren’t you eating? Why aren’t you accepting treatment?”

 

Another shrug.

 

“You’re _dying_ , Catra!”

 

“Yeah, obviously!” Catra snapped. “I know that!”

 

Finally looking up, Catra found She-Ra’s expression a tableau of anger and helplessness and frustration and pain. Some dim, distant part of Catra felt savage glee. (An even more distant part felt a stab of sorrow.) “So that’s it then?” She-Ra yanked at the cell bars, bending them without even seeming to notice. “You’d rather- rather curl up and die, than just- just see _sense_?”

 

Catra began to laugh, dry and mirthlessly, but quickly the laughter turned into another round of racking coughs.

 

“ _Catra_.” The princess looked so pitiful, pressed against the cell bars. “Please!”

 

Leaning against the wall to keep herself upright, feeling cold and hot and clammy all at the same time, Catra managed to focus her gaze back on She-Ra. “Please what?”

 

“Please don’t-” She paused- “don’t let yourself- don’t _die_.”

 

“Why-” another cough- “Why shouldn’t I?” She-Ra opened her mouth to argue, but Catra cut her off. “I’m not gonna let myself- become your housepet- do whatever you want-” She shook her head. “And I’m probably not even going to get back to the Horde, but even if I did-”

 

_What would be the point?_

 

“And what do you even care, anyway?!” Catra snarled.

 

“What do I- what do I care?” She-Ra’s voice was half angry, half indignant. “I care because we are- were friends, Catra. Just because you want me dead, doesn’t mean I feel the same way about you!”

 

“I don’t want you fucking dead!”

 

“Oh, really? Wow, I must have really misinterpreted you _dropping_ me off a cliff.”

 

“You survived.”

 

She-Ra continued on, not even listen. “Oh, and how about all those constant attacks on me and my friends?” Her hands were gripping the cell door bars so tightly they were actually crumpling. “Kind of a mixed message there, Catra.”

 

“Well, what exactly do you want, then?” Catra said, slumping back. “An apology?”

 

“That would be a good start, yes!”

 

“Well, how about _you_ apologise to me first?”

 

“Apologise to you? For what?”

 

“Hmm… I don’t know? Abandoning me?” Catra had intended for that to come out dry, sardonic, but she couldn’t keep the genuine sharp anger from slipping out.

 

“ _Abandoning_ you?” Sheer emotion somehow managed to make She-Ra’s hair billow dramatically. “I asked you to come with me! And then you tasered me!”

 

“Because you were being an idiot!” Catra had to stop herself before she went down an unimportant tangent. Her energy was fading fast, and there was stuff she wanted to get out, before she kicked the bucket. “How could you expect me to just… leave everything behind like that? We had a plan! We were going to stick together, no matter what!”

 

“And we could have stuck together if you’d just-”

 

“Listened to you? Did what you said? Betrayed everything we’d ever worked for?”

 

“The things we were working on were… heinous, Catra.” Now She-Ra went quiet, solemn. So damn self-certain. “The things they’d told us growing up were all lies. The Horde’s been hurting people, killing them, destroying cultures.”

 

“Yeah, obviously.”

 

She-Ra frowned deeper. “That was your reaction when I first told you. I don’t get it. If you always knew… why’d you ever listen to them? Why did- why did you stay with the Horde? How could you do such terrible things?”

 

Catra pulled her legs up to her chest, staring at She-Ra. She genuinely believed all of this, and that just made it worse. “Because that’s how the world works for people like me,” she said, nearly a whisper. “People will hurt you. The only way to stop it is to hurt them first.”

 

She-Ra shook her head. The expression… Catra tried to pin a word on it, but was so tired that it took a moment. Hopeful? Pitying? “That’s not what it’s like outside the Horde. Out here, people look after each other. Protect people who can’t protect themselves.”

 

There was a long silence, filled only with the sound of Catra’s own labored breathing. She asked, at last, “Why wasn’t I good enough to protect?”

 

_That_ took She-Ra aback. And whatever else, Catra still got satisfaction from managing to unablance Adora. “Protect you? From what?”

 

“From Shadow Weaver,” Catra said. “From the Horde, in all its fucked up glory!”

 

She-Ra blinked. “Protect you?” she repeated. “You didn’t need protecting.” Her tone took back on that bitter edge. “You made that part perfectly clear.”

 

“You’re right. I didn’t need it.” Catra’s claws dug into her thighs, deep enough to hurt. “But I _wanted_ it.”

 

She-Ra’s brow furrowed. “I don’t- understand-”

 

“You really don’t, do you?” Catra risked coughing to laugh again. “Yeah, the Horde’s awful, but not just to the folks out here. It was awful to us. To me! All the times Shadow Weaver- tortured me or sent nightmares after me- And none of that clued you into the fact that, yeah, the Horde’s _actually_ pretty shitty?”

 

“I-” began She-Ra.

 

“And then you leave, and see the Horde beating up other people, and _that’s_ what finally gets through your thick skull? And your first thought is, ‘I need to help you, strangers I’ve known for less than a day!’”

 

“It wasn’t like that!”  


“Oh, yeah? How?!”

 

“Because I can actually _protect_ people out here! What was I supposed to do back in the Horde? How was I supposed to actually make anything better?!”

 

“Easy!” Catra spat. “You were a new Force Captain, Shadow Weaver’s favourite! Now you had magical powers! Even without those, I still managed to become Hordak’s second-in-command! Imagine the stuff you could have done- all the things we’d talked about as kids- we could have fixed it-”

 

“Like you did?”

 

The words stopped Catra cold.

 

“But you didn’t, did you?” She-Ra And there were those bright blue eyes like ice again, boring into Catra. “You became second-in-command, but things didn’t get better. I’ve been talking to our old team, I know. Things have just gotten worse, haven’t they?

 

“And I don’t even know if I can blame you,” She-Ra continued, voice painfully soft. “At least, not completely. I don’t know if I would have been any better, if I stayed. Known how to be better, without the things I’ve learned from my friends out here. I would have thought I was doing the right thing, but…”

 

There was a dull thud as Catra’s head hit the wall. She stared up at the dull plaster of ceiling. Whatever fierce, righteous anger had been fuelling her drained away all at once, leaving her drained and exhausted.

 

“Fuck. You’re right.”

 

Her eyes were burning. She blinked the tears away, frustrated, embarrassed.

 

“Catra? What did you s-” said She-Ra.

 

“You. Are. _Right_.” Catra spat. “There? You happy. You’re right, okay! Like always!” Those traitorous tears were coming in earnest now, and there was nothing she could do to stop them. “You were right and I was wrong and you’ve won!”

 

“I… Catra…” A pained silence. “I didn’t… I’m not always right, Catra.”

 

Catra snorted. It sent a jolt of pain through her body- but then, everything did now.

 

“I’m not,” She-Ra protested, but gently. “Because if I was… I would have noticed how much- how much you were hurting. I never would have let you… get like this. And I’m so, so sorry.”

 

And something inside Catra broke.

 

She wasn’t sure what. The last of her dignity, perhaps, or her strength. All she knew was she was crying, crying harder than she ever had in her life, harder than when she’d first broken a bone, when she’d first lost Adora. A deep, desperate sobbing that reached right into her and left the whole body shaking-

 

\- And then it wasn’t tears any more, but coughing. A fit worse than any that had come before. Hacking and ugly, like her lungs were trying to escape her chest.

 

The tears were from pain now. Dimly, Catra was aware that she’d fallen to her knees, that She-Ra was calling her name. There were black spots all over her vision. Her lungs cried out for air, but she couldn’t get it in-

 

Her whole being was a desperate, drowning animal- except for the one part of her, which stayed calm even then, simply reflected she'd found maybe the most embarrassing way to die- 

 

And then there was light.

 

Golden light, everywhere, inside her. It was like being hit by a bull.

 

But it didn’t hurt. It was the opposite of pain, in fact. Not pleasure, exactly, though something just as intense. Catra’s mind couldn’t find a word for it. It was as though,  for an impossible moment, she didn’t have a body. Like she was in some place beyond physicality, like she was a fire, like she was the sun. Burning, glorious, impossible to extinguish.

 

And then she was back.

 

She was on the floor of the cell. Her heart thundered in her ears. She was breathing. And Adora was holding her.

 

And it _was_ Adora. Normal red shirt and normal blonde hair and normal blue eyes, only stained red with tears,and Adora was clutching her, and saying, “Please, be okay-”

 

“I’m- I’m, hey, Adora, chill, I’m fine-” And normally, that was the point where Catra would have pushed Adora away, but she was far too exhausted.

 

Actually, no. She wasn’t. With dawning amazement, Catra realised that… she actually  _was_ fine. Her breathing was calm and deep and even. There was no dull throbbing in her bones. No feverish burning in her skin. No constant dizziness. Beyond even that, there was some energy pulsing in her, like she could run anywhere or do anything.

 

Then Catra really did push Adora away, if only to get a proper look at herself. She shrieked, “What happened?”  


“I- I healed you?” Adora’s draw dropped open. She rubbed her eyes. “I healed you! I actually-”

 

“You healed me?! You can _do_ that?”

 

“She-Ra can. Or, well, she’s supposed to be able to, but I’ve never really managed it- but I healed you, I can’t believe-!”

 

Adora stopped, becoming aware of several things just a moment after Catra did:

 

The manacles were gone from Catra’s wrists, lying on the floor, half-melted. The same thing had happened to the cell door. And She-Ra’s sword was lying abandoned on the other side of the room.

 

She could escape. Judging from the distant yelling, she would have to be fast, but she could do it. They wouldn't be prepared for her at her top form.

 

Catra got up. Adora didn’t move to follow.

 

Tail lashing, Catra eyed the open cell, but didn’t move towards it.

 

“If I stay,” Catra asked, “what happens?”

 

“I… don’t know,” Adora admitted. “But- we could find out together?”

 

Catra hesitated. “... Promise?”

 

“Yeah. Promise.”

 

The guards were almost there. Her opportunity was closing. Last chance to escape.

 

Slowly, Catra’s claws retracted. She sat back down on the cot. Adora got up, retrieved She-Ra’s sword, and joined her. It felt oddly like being kids again, cadets awaiting official reprimands after making too much of a mess. 

 

 

After a moment, Adora rested her hand her hand on top of Catra’s. It felt warm. Familiar.

 

Maybe… maybe this could work out, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So season 2 officially comes out tomorrow, and since it will immediately invalidate this whole fic, I really wanted to get this chapter out.
> 
> This was the emotional climax, as it were. Gonna have a wind-down after this, probably 1-2 chapters, as we get that ever important recovery stuff. So look forward to that : )


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... how'd everyone like season 2? I absolutely adored it and am filled with Thoughts. 
> 
> Just to clarify: this isn't going to be in continuity with season 2, just because, as was always inevitable, there's too many things that don't match up. That said, I am going to incorporate references to certain things that happened, though just assume it happened in different ways than in the show.

Things were still hard after that.

 

Which wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Getting Adora back was supposed to have made everything better. Was supposed to have put things back to normal.

 

But then, Adora had always been supposed to come back to the Horde. That hadn’t happened. In a very real way, Catra hadn’t gotten Adora back; it was the other way around.

 

So Catra couldn’t muster up much surprise. Her life had always been hard. Couldn’t expect that to start changing now.

 

She-Ra’s powers had healed her injuries and illness, but Catra’s body was still far from a hundred percent. To start with, the healing wave had managed to set some of her previously broken bones in the wrong place. And honestly, Catra had half a mind to just leave them like that, but the healer said it’d leave to breathing problems, balance difficulties. So Catra had grudgingly agreed to allowing her bones to be re-broken and reset. With the painkillers they'd put her back on for the operation, it had hardly even hurt. 

 

(Adora tried to get the magical healing surge thing she’d done to work again, but all she accomplished was She-Ra’s sword around uselessly for about an hour. Honestly, Catra didn’t really mind. They’d put her back on painkillers, and besides. It was satisfying to know there was some stuff Adora couldn’t do, even as She-Ra.)

 

Beyond her re-broken bones, Catra’s body was in a sorry state. She was thin, dangerously so. Catra had already known that, but looking herself over properly for the first time since her capture, it was truly grim just how much her bones jutted out, how sickly pale her skin looked. Made her glad that there wasn’t a mirror in her cell.

 

She was out of shape, too. Weeks of lying around doing nothing had atrophied her muscles. The Catra who’d come in had been able to scale a cliff, sneak into a castle, and go down fighting. This Catra could barely make it across a room without losing her breath.

 

She tried to get better, she truly did. But it was hard. Sit ups and ab-crunches and even just pacing hurt, hurt even more than those baby drills she’d started on when she was five.

 

Even eating was hard. The first time she was coaxed into eating a full-sized meal, all she accomplished was vomiting everything up immediately after.

 

(Which would have been humiliating enough on its own, without the healer chiding her for it.)

 

And that was when she had the energy to eat at all. So often, it just felt simpler to lie back on the bed, stare at the ceiling, and try not to think about anything at all.

 

* * *

 

 

The only thing that consistently got Catra out of bed was Adora. Partly because Catra didn’t want Adora to see how pathetic she still was, partly because if Catra refused, Adora had absolutely no difficulty picking her up now and physically pulling her out of bed.

 

Adora made daily visits, which seemed like something of a waste of her powers considering the war going on, but whatever. Every day Adora was there, and every day, Catra did what she could to look at least half alive.

 

With each visit, Adora brought things. Food, for starters- fruits and buns and puddings cake, much finer than the stuff they served the prisoners. (Which, considering that the stuff here was already better than the slop which served as rations in the Horde, was saying something.) Then there was entertainment; a pack of playing cards, various books and scrolls, some weird knot puzzles. She brought soft blankets and plush pillows and a beautiful tapestry to cover the cell wall. Luxuries, the kind of things Catra had never had in the Horde, even as Hordak’s right hand.

 

What was it all supposed to be? Bribes for her good behaviour? Another way to rub in her face just how better the princesses were? Or just another way of trying to apologise for everything?

 

Probably the last one, Catra would admit to herself, when she was in her better moods. But even so, she still missed before. When their friendship had been founded on trust and loyalty and certainty, and not something as superficial as physical things. 

 

* * *

 

Adora started bringing people over, too, which Catra viewed with even less enthusiasm than the gifts.

 

The first two to come were the archer and Princess Sparkle Butt, of course. The two of them had been stuck to Adora’s side since her betrayal, and making up with Catra hadn’t changed that, it seemed.

 

Glimmer spent all of her first visit leaning against a wall, glaring daggers at Catra. Bow, in contrast, paced near constantly. He was smiling that usual dumb, naive smile of his… only Catra could see it was more more forced than those times he’d tried befriending her in the past.

 

Nobody said it, but it was clear: they thought this was just another one of Catra’s schemes.

 

Catra found herself caught between the conflicting desires of wanting to rub the situation in the pair’s faces, and wanting to prove them wrong.

 

* * *

 

There were other visitors, too. The ridiculous plant princess who brought a vase full of flowers; the toddler ice princess who bluntly asked ‘what is it like to be evil?’; and Adora’s ridiculous rainbow flying horse creature thing who would. Not. Stop. _Talking_.

 

But at least Swift Wing was better than the buffoon wannabe pirate, who seemingly had only two ways of communicating; boasts and sea shanties. Often, the two overlapped.

 

The only upside to _that_ visit was the ocean princess. She seemed almost as bugged by Sea Bird dude as Catra was, for starters. But more than that, her attitude just seemed perpetually… done with the universe in general. It was a refreshing honest attitude from a princess.

 

“You’d have done well in the Horde,” Catra remarked to Mermista, near the visit’s end, mostly to stir up trouble than anything else.

 

But Mermista didn’t rise to the bait. She just rose her eyebrows, barely even looking up from polishing her nails. “Well, too bad for them, cuz they’re _laaaaaammme_.”

 

So, yeah. Maybe Catra could come up with a way to hint to Adora that she could bring Mermista by again… _without_ the sailor.

 

* * *

 

There was one other person that Catra had been expecting a visit from- and the longer it went without seeing her, the more Catra tried not to think of it. She had Adora back. She shouldn’t expect anything more. She shouldn’t _want_ anything more.

 

But then Scorpia appeared at the cell door, a shy, nervous smile on her face… And Catra couldn’t help her ears pricking up.

 

“Hey, wildcat,” Scorpia said. “Um… is this a good time for visitors?”


	9. Chapter 9

While the reunion between Catra and Adora had been filled with deep silence, the one between her and Scorpia was filled with endless chatter.  

 

While uncharacteristically shy at first, once Scorpia gained momentum, there was no stopping her. She talked and talked and talked; about how much she had missed Catra, about how well she seemed to be recovering, how nice her room looked, much comfier than her chamber back in the Fright Zone, don’t you think? Oooh, I’ve read that book too, it’s a fun one, isn’t it?- 

 

But Catra had less to say in response to Scorpia’s enthusiasm than ever. And while previously, that had never been a deterrent, eventually even Scorpia ran out of steam. She started trailing off, her smile sagging. 

 

“Catra,” she said, at last, a question mark hanging in the air. 

 

Catra raised her eyebrows. “What?”

 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “For… for leaving you.”

 

Catra looked down at the floor, her ears twitching. A dozen dismissive comments came to mind. To her own surprise, something far more honest slipped out instead “You said you wouldn’t.”

 

Scorpia flinched at that. “Yeah,” she said. “I did. And I left anyway. I abandoned you- I’m so sorry-”

 

“Stop apologising!” Catra shouted.

 

Scopria backed away- shocked, scared? She looked like she’d been kicked in the face. How anyone from the Horde had managed to grow up so soft made no sense, no sense at all.

 

“You don’t need to apologise,” Catra said, fighting to make her voice gentler. “Okay? It’s not like you- you owe me, or anything.”

 

“I… it’s not... “ Scorpia shook her head, looking lost, but determined. “It’s not that, Catra. It’s that.. We were friends. Still are, hopefully?” She paused, and when Catra gave no response either way, forged on “I made a promise to you… and I broke it… and I feel awful, and I’m so sorry, you deserved better…”

 

_No, I didn’t._

 

Aloud, Catra said, “You tried to get me to leave, too. Your letter, remember?”

 

“You got that?” For a moment, Scorpia looked pleased. Her face fell immediately. “I wanted to do more. I wanted to come get you, but…”

 

“The princesses didn’t let you?” Catra guessed.

 

“They didn’t… We were all still learning to trust each other,” muttered Scorpia.

 

 _And they still are_ , Catra figured. That must’ve been why it had taken so long for Scorpia to visit her. Adora and the others hadn’t been sure that Scorpia still wouldn’t try to bust her out.

 

“Right. Well,” Catra said. “Wouldn’t have made any difference, even if you had. I didn’t want to come.”

 

“I could have convinced you!”

 

“No, you couldn’t,” hissed Catra. “I would have just tried to lock you up. 

 

“And then what would you have done? Would you have fought back? Been willing to knock me out? Throw me in a cell?”

 

Scorpia’s claws opened and closed endlessly. She didn’t answer, but they both knew the truth. She wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ , have.

 

“You’re a… nice person,” Catra said. “Too nice. And I’m not.”

 

“No- I mean- you’re a nice person!” 

 

“No, I’m not! All I know is how to- to attack, and kill, and hurt, and- drive people away!” Catra was on her feet, claws drawn. “Come on, Scorpia, admit it! The whole time in the Fright Zone, you were nothing but kind to me! When was I ever kind back? I was always ordering you around and yelling at you- and that’s when I noticed you at all!”

 

“You- you have your own way of showing love,” Scorpia said. “And I won’t say it was always… easy… but…” She gave a watery smile. “You understood me, Catra, when no one else did. You knew what it was like to be an outcast. I… might have more friends, now, but… still, most of them don’t get that. Not like you do.”

 

Catra glared at Scorpia, then looked away quickly. Her claws retracted, but she still felt all her fur on end. 

 

A heavy, gentle arm wrapped around her shoulder. Scorpia said, “Listen… Maybe you’re… not always the nicest. But you’re brave and smart, and you- you care. So I know that you can learn.”

* * *

 

Scorpia, it turned out, was a good teacher. She was patient and thoughtful, even when Catra didn’t deserve it, and didn’t carry a simmering sense of distrust below the surface like all the Princesses and their goonies. 

 

Back in the Fright Zone, Catra had never really appreciated Scorpia. At best, she had been an extra set of hands, and at worst, a buffoon. She had never taken the time to see just how valuable her consideration and her loyalty and her thoughtfulness were. In fact, she’d viewed all of them as weaknesses. 

 

But this wasn’t the Horde. There weren’t daily battles to strategise for, supplies to manage, training to oversee, or the looming presence of Hordak to mollify. 

 

That didn’t stop Catra from flinching at shadows, or sleeping with her claws out, or half-expecting that any day, Queen Angella would prove to her that this had all been an elaborate, cruel, and painful punishment was coming after all.

 

But Scorpia understood what it had been like to live through all of that, and so had Adora. So they put up with Catra’s outbursts with a patience which was, frankly, annoying. She wanted someone who wouldn't treat her with the same delicacy as a porcelain bowl or a bomb that could go off at any moment. 

 

* * *

 

That’s what made the punch such a fucking relief.

 

It came seemingly out of nowhere, sharp and painful, right into Catra’s jaw. She hadn’t seen it coming, which was impressive, considering on edge she’d been. It had been on her first day allowed out of the cell, to join in a communal lunch time in the prisoners’ cafeteria. She’d spent the entire meal braced for what would happen if someone among the throngs of ex-Horde soldiers recognised her. 

 

That person, it turned out, was Lonnie. Which made sense, Catra reflected, as she rubbed her cheek and considered if she should retaliate. Of course only someone who’d trained with her her whole life would manage to get the drop on us. 

 

“I guess I deserve that,” Catra said, at last.

 

“Yeah, you did,” Lonnie growled. Her fist was curled, as if debating whether she could get in another swing without the guards noticing.

 

“Look,” Catra said, throwing up her hands. “It was nothing personal, okay? I was just doing what was best for the Horde-” 

 

“For your own skin, more like,” Lonnie said, stepping back and crossing her arms. “At least when Adora turned traitor, she had the decency to be clear about it. 

 

“Yeah- well-” Catra spluttered, finding denial impossible. “What do you want me to _do_ about it?”

 

Lonnie snorted. “Well… short of you going back in time, and stopping yourself throwing your whole squad in a cell?” She shook her head. “An apology would be nice.”

 

Catra stopped. Stared. She could feel dozens of eyes on her. 

 

Horde soldiers, all of them. Most of them probably hadn’t served under her directly… but maybe some had. And even if they hadn’t, they’d probably heard about her. Hordak’s second in command, the one who was supposed to have led them to victory.

 

What had they thought about her? What were they thinking now?

 

That wasn’t supposed to matter. It hadn’t. But now...

 

And Lonnie. Catra had never been close to her- never allowed herself to. But they’d never been enemies, either. And Catra didn’t want to be.

 

“... I’m sorry.”

 

Lonnie blinked, her surprise obvious.

 

Catra didn’t stick around to elaborate, or hear Lonnie’s reaction, or anyone else’s, for that matter. Abandoning what remained of her lunch, she got up, and stalked back to her cell, to think.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Adora,” Catra said, some days later, during one of the princess’s regular visits.

 

She still thought of Adora like that, even after everything. Because she _was_ princess now, no doubt about it. Even when she was in her normal body, the She-Ra in her was obvious. She spoke her mind more plainly than she did back in the Horde, wasn’t as desperate of a people pleaser.  There was an easy confidence to how she walked. She didn’t need to prove her worth to the world; she was sure that she already had.

 

But now… Catra could see past all of that, to the girl Adora used to be. She still dramatically acted out conversations and battles when she thought no one was looking. She still made the same lame jokes, then laughed at them like they were the height of creativity. She still just could not chill, for even ten seconds. 

 

She was a princess, but she was Adora.

 

“What?” Adora asked. From the slight edge of tension in her voice, she picked up on the nervousness that Catra had been very much trying to hide. 

 

“I just…” Catra’s tail was lashing, and she had to struggle not to look away. She’d been practicing this with Scorpia, but it was so much harder in reality.  “There’s just. I just wanted to tell you…”

 

Catra trailed off. 

 

Adora didn’t interrupt, didn’t immediately press her. She understood Catra needed time to sort through her own words.

 

Finally, Catra said: “I’m sorry.”

 

Adora blinked, recoiling. “What? No!” She shook her head. “You don’t need to apologise! I’m the one who’s sorry!-”

 

“ _You’ve_ already told me that!” That first time, and a hundred times after, in gestures and gifts and strained silences that had never existed before. “But I never said it to you.”

 

“You don’t need to-”

 

“I do,” Catra interrupted. “I didn’t think I did- I thought everything was all your fault but… Ugh.” Catra’s claws were digging into the mattress beneath her. “I’ve had a chance to look at things… Talk with people… And I’ve kind of been an ass.”

 

Adora’s lip twitched- and then, remarkably, she smiled. “More than an ass,” she admitted.

 

“Yeah,” Catra said, and it came out as a laugh, and it felt so good. “I mean- I did try to kill you. Multiple times.”

 

“And all my friends,” Adora added.

 

“Don’t push it,” Catra said, scowling… but okay, yeah, she felt kind of bad for that too. She still didn’t like Princess Glitter-Butt and Captain Optimistic, but she didn’t want them dead. Them dying would hurt Adora, for starters, and the thought of that didn't bring Catra the same savage joy it once had. 

Adora just laughed, and swiped at Catra, and Catra swiped back, and ten minutes later they were lying on the floor, panting, half-destroyed pillows and mattresses lying in feathery destruction around them.

 

Catra’s stamina was still nowhere near where it had once been, but damn, if it hadn’t been ages since she’d actually _enjoyed_ sparring. 

 

“So…” Catra asked, once she’d caught her breath, as she stared up at the ceiling. “Are we… even, now?”

 

“Yeah.” Adora rolled over, to lay her head in the crook of Catra’s neck. It felt like a lost puzzle piece, snapping into place. “We’re even.”

 

* * *

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woof. That took... Longer than expected.
> 
> Honestly, I had various ideas kicking for near endless one on ones betweeen Catra and other characters (I think Glimmer would be especially interesting; they're so similar)- but honestly, they would just distract from the core narrative. Maybe I'll re-use those ideas for something else one day. For now, I hope y'all enjoyed the story!


End file.
